An Unlikely Friendship
by Janiqua
Summary: Tag for "Too Hot to Handle." Expect spoilers! Gisborne is an outlaw, and Allan is sympathetic.


"**An Unlikely Friendship"**

**Spoiler Warning: **This story takes place directly after episode seven of the third series, "Too Hot to Handle." Please expect spoilers.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Robin Hood. This was written solely for my entertainment. The one and only profit I receive is gratification from my readers' reviews.

**ooooooo**

Sir Guy of Gisborne was an undeniably complicated individual, not that people noticed. Most saw him as the late Sheriff of Nottingham's tax collector, and the Lord of Locksley. They considered him brutal, savage, and merciless. Of course, those who knew him better saw him as a soulless beast who obeyed the Sheriff's every command without the slightest hesitation, unquestioningly obedient. Even Robin, who normally sought the good in everyone, didn't care to see his enemy as anything other than a cold-hearted assassin.

Now that Marian and the Sheriff were both dead, Allan A' Dale remained the only one in the world who truly understood how complicated Gisborne's life had become. Obviously, he had seen the man at his worst, on countless occasions, but then…. he had also seen the man at his best, and in such instances, he had been heroic enough to rival Robin Hood himself. Marian brought it out in him. She always knew he had goodness somewhere inside, and cultivated it wherever she could. Her death continued to confound Allan. It wasn't possible. Gisborne loved her. He'd do anything for her. So, why….?

Of course it was difficult coping with that disaster, though Allan imagined it was worse for Gisborne. At least Robin didn't have guilt wracking him, tearing him apart at the seams. After months, and thanks to Kate and Tuck, they were finally getting on with their lives, and when Allan saw Robin with Isabella, a part of him wanted to believe some healing had taken place. Upon beating the drought, he asked Robin how things were between him and the beautiful young lady. All he wanted was a bit of gossip, but Robin wasn't in the mood, and it didn't take a genius to realize something bad had gone down between them. Curious, Allan cornered Kate, and before he knew it, she was cheerfully describing not Isabella's treachery, but her brother's.

"Next thing I knew, Robin and Gisborne both had their swords at Prince John's throat. You should have seen the look on his face. Nothing but a spoiled brat, that one, who handles every situation by having a tantrum. England will be the laughing stock of the world if he gains the throne. Can you imagine him asking why the Saracens don't love him? Of course, Gisborne's no better. I'm fairly certain there were tears in his eyes."

For the first time in days, Allan felt ice cold. It didn't take Kate long to see he didn't share her amusement, but before she could ask why, he turned away and scanned the rest of the camp. Little John was sitting next to Tuck, drinking soup from a wooden ladle. Much was shaping branches into arrow shafts, and in the shadows, ghosts of Will and Djaq were sitting side by side, whispering to each other while fiddling around with either wood or mysterious concoctions. God, Allan missed them. Now as for Robin…. Robin was off by himself, sulking. He always sulked these days…. whenever he thought about Marian.

"Allan, what's the matter?"

He shook his head, snapping out of his momentary reverie. "Just thinking about Isabella," he lied, quickly, easily, and cleanly. "Tuck was right, thinking she had ulterior motives. Can't blame her for wanting out, though. Can't be easy belonging to the Gisborne clan. You're lucky, Kate. What with everything you've been through, I reckon you're still five times happier than she'll ever be." Too bad for Much; Kate seemed pleasantly surprised by Allan's "sensitivity."

The truth was, Allan didn't care a whit for Isabella. He just didn't want Kate, or any of the others for that matter, guessing why he felt the need to slip away from camp that night. If they suspected where he planned on going, they might start doubting his allegiances. Again. The previous year had taught Allan a lot about himself, and the kind of man he wanted to be. He wanted to be a freedom fighter. He wanted to defy Prince John. He wanted to save England. Most importantly, he wanted to make up for his mistakes. He told himself over and over again not to compromise his friendship with Robin, but at the same time…. he couldn't bloody well deny the camaraderie he once shared with Guy.

Sneaking into Nottingham was no more difficult at night than it was during the day. The gates might have been closed, but Allan had long since learned how to bribe the porter, and within a quarter hour, he was hastening down the side street toward Gisborne's favorite tavern. Since the Sheriff's untimely demise, most of his guards had been discharged, replaced by the prince's own men. Whether or not they were better trained and more competent could still be debated, but the regime change offered Allan and Gisborne several advantages. After all, the two of them were much more familiar with the city, and if a group of outlaws could walk about freely despite the Sheriff's guards, how much easier would it be for two outlaws to outwit a band of London strangers?

Allan knew Gisborne; he knew how Gisborne thought. A year ago, the man would never have dared defy Prince John, but since then, since Marian…. everything had spiraled out of control. Anyway, Gisborne might not have any experience living the life of an outlaw, but he did have a clue. Namely Robin. Robin was proof that escaping to freedom didn't necessarily mean putting as much distance between oneself and one's enemies as possible. Sometimes, sitting still and keeping one's head down was sufficient. If the guards expected him to run, they wouldn't look for him in their own backyard, and after awhile, they'd lose interest in the chase. Meanwhile, Gisborne would find shelter somewhere relatively safe, where the people didn't resent him enough to turn him in for a small reward. Unsurprisingly, for men like Gisborne, such shelter was exceedingly rare. The tavern was the only place Allan could imagine finding him.

Sure enough, upon pushing his way through the flimsy, warped doorway and making eye contact with the familiar barmaid, who immediately recognized him and nodded toward a small table in the back, Allan caught sight of a large man dressed in a heavy black cloak with the hood casting shadows over his face. He was hunched over the table, neglecting his drink, and seemingly lost to the world. For a moment, Allan just stared at him from across the room, taking a deep breath. What was he doing here? The place reeked of his old treachery. The barmaid knew him as Gisborne's lackey, and Gisborne himself would rather die than accept his help, so why bother?

Because…. Gisborne had no one else in the world…. And had Allan been any different?

"Not being funny," he quipped, maneuvering around the tavern's other late night patrons and easing onto the stool across from Gisborne. "Prince John's guards are even more useless than yours." He was ready to weigh the man's reaction, but Gisborne barely acknowledged him. Allan tried peering through the darkness to catch a glimpse of his expression, but it was like trying to catch a glimpse of a phantom. Just when he thought he could make something out, it vanished into the night. Gisborne was impossible to read. "Look," he said after a beat. "I figure I owe you. Kate told me what happened at the castle, so…. if there's anything I can do…."

"Am I supposed to trust you, Allan?" Gisborne quietly demanded, still motionless, but with enough pain in his voice to convince anyone that he wasn't made of stone. "There is not a single man or woman on this godforsaken earth who hasn't betrayed me. You are no better."

"Maybe not," Allan conceded, his shoulders sagging. "But I'm not here to deceive you, Guy. What do I have to gain? If it was money I wanted, I would have alerted the guards." Hell, if it was money he wanted, he would never have left Gisborne's service in the first place. "You have to understand…. there's more to life than money and power. Took me a long time to realize that. You and I both know it's easier with all those riches, but then again, it's also bloody wretched." Allan didn't feel the need to elaborate. After all, at that moment, he couldn't think of anyone more wretched than Gisborne, though the man tried concealing it with a contemptuous scoff.

"I don't need some lecture. Especially not from you."

"No, believe me, I know," Allan assured him. "All I'm saying is…. even now, after everything that's happened, you don't have to go through any of this alone."

**ooooooo**

**A/N: **I know it's not much, and it has a quick, cliché ending, but I've been waiting desperately for a scene like this ever since the third series began, and there hasn't been one. It's like a craving, and if the show won't satisfy it, I guess my only other option is fanfiction. Anyway, I hope it was enjoyable in its humble way, and I'm looking forward to your reviews. Thanks!


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